Book Review: Fiona’s Guardians
Fiona’s Guardians. Dan Klefstad. Burton Mayers Books, October 2, 2020, Trade Paperback and E-book, 297 pages.
Reviewed by Susan Gaspar.
Fans of the horror genre, and specifically vampire tales, will be riveted by Dan Klefstad’s Fiona’s Guardians, but there is more to unpack than fangs and an insatiable thirst for human blood. As a longtime horror fan, I admit to a bit of vampire fatigue, but I was intrigued by the book’s tantalizing premise: an alluring vampire seeks a new human caretaker to fetch her food and manage her finances while she outwits her mortal enemies and navigates the politics and shifting power structures in the vampire world. A singular perspective—and I was not disappointed.
The story begins with a letter from Fiona to the reader, who is assumed to be mortal. It’s a perfect means for introducing the seductive, brilliant, imposing title character. Like a vampire’s spell, Fiona’s letter pulls you in and leads you down a path you cannot resist, and before you know it, you are tethered and locked in for the extent of the ride. And this book is just that—a RIDE.
The pace is unrelentingly breathless. Chapters are short, often cleverly titled, and separated into brief cut-away scenes that bounce your brain back and forth between high-stakes scenarios in different places and historical periods. Picture a time-traveling machine that stops for carefully curated moments over the last few centuries, then returns to the present day, and finally propels you into the near future for good measure. At first, the scenes may appear random, but when connected as flashbacks, you see the story unfold in a circular—not linear—time, providing is a sublime metaphor for the chaotic yet repetitive lives of the vampires and their chosen humans. Mortal danger is always a hair’s breadth away, and getting off the ride seems just as deadly as staying on.
Through Daniel, the guardian chosen by Fiona, we have a way to access a world that’s otherwise hidden, highly secretive, and eternally combustible as long as the sun rises each morning. We are granted exclusive entry into the minds of humans and immortals, and the view from both sides is acutely disturbing. We learn a slew of particulars as to how vampires navigate the land of the living, including: the threat levels of crucifixes, silver, and sunshine; that blood type is as important as quantity; the mutable nature of vampire ethics (and their fast, often chilling legal proceedings); and how memories and relationships gradually fade over the grinding passage of a couple of hundred years.
Klefstad’s writing is richly detailed—his words are like tiles in an intricate and elaborate mosaic. I found myself reading certain sections more than once to savor the lush imagery described—fabrics, lighting fixtures, crystal drinkware, artwork, colors, and textures—nothing is hastily or haphazardly sketched. The weight of history is felt with the use of archaic language, bygone battle tactics, and letters delivered by messenger to communicate vital instructions and circumstances in those chapters. And the remainder of the book, set in the present day, employs modern conveniences, including mobile phones, social media, video chats, and high-tech innovations like drones and thermal imagery. These quick shifts and stark contrasts provide an ideal vehicle for showcasing Kelfstad’s flair for suspense and dramatic tension.
One of my favorite elements is the secret order of Catholic monks, the Mors Strigae, that ruthlessly hunt the vampires, determined to wipe them off the face of the earth despite an often fruitless war that has raged for centuries. The vampire-hunting construct is not new, and neither is the concept that vampires are linked to a religion that vows to decimate them (or is secretly in collusion). But Klefstad does a stellar job of fleshing out this underground brotherhood so that you are personally invested in some of the monks on the front lines and feel the loss as they fall. And without giving too much away, the final chapters involving the Vatican are the consummate undoing—complete with a surprise twist—and the ultimate disembarkation point from the nonstop ride that is this book.
Fiona’s Guardians is engaging because you relate to both the humans and the vampires. The lines of good and evil are blurred. You are equally bewitched by captivating characters, whether they are shooting or dodging wooden bullets, or wielding or wearing silver handcuffs. Fans of horror, the supernatural, and gothic history will tear through the story, and followers of vampire tales will revel in the sexual energy, the constant thirst for blood, and the undeniable power of the undead who rule the dark. And if you are like me, you hope that there is a sequel in the hopper, and you wonder if this book will be adapted for the screen. But for now, we have the rich, irresistible Fiona’s Guardians to satisfy our thirst.